Beginnings
by VentoSereno
Summary: Two soldiers meet at a time of war. A series of drabbles encapsulating the beginnings of Remadora - this first part covers OotP.
1. Chapter 1

**By the fire**

She walks into the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place late one night, after another double shift. She's shattered. Really shattered. She has her own flat to go home to, but she left a pile of Order paperwork here and she needs to go over it before the meeting tomorrow.

Who knew leading a double life would be dull as well as tiring? Not like her dad's adventure books would have you believe.

Despite the lateness of the hour the kitchen is still cast in a warm glow from the dying fire. Her heart does a little jig when she sees Remus sitting by the hearth.

"Wotcher!"

He looks up from his book and gives her his best tired, lopsided smile. She loves that smile. The butterflies in her tummy take flight, and join her heart in its jig.

"Evening. How was work?"

And just like that, the lateness of the hour, the urgency of the paperwork, the lure of her bed disappear. The world condenses down to the warmth of the fire and the pleasure of his company. He makes them cocoa and they chat, as always, much later into the night than either had intended.

"Oh god, it's almost two in the morning. I'll never make it into work tomorrow. And look at this mound of reports I've still got to get through!" she wails, only half in jest.

"Well, you know what they say, Nymphadora" he intones in his best Professor voice - _she's been teasing him about it again_ \- "A problem shared is a problem halved".

He accios the paperwork towards him, in a casual-yet-elegant flick of his wand that she can't help but find a bit sexy.

"I can't ask you to do that! You've got your own work to get through. Honestly, I can manage!" she says, flustered. She doesn't know if it's because she doesn't want him to think her incapable of coping with her duties to the Order, or because she thinks it's so nice that he would do that. For her.

"You didn't ask. I'm offering. And I won't take no for an answer." and he smiles that special smile at her again. She grins back.


	2. Chapter 2

**At the pub**

Once they bump into one another at a pub. For a moment, she is confused - should she greet him? Is it feasible that they should know one another outside of a highly secretive resistance group? Half the Ministry is in here tonight, and her instinct is to play it cool.

He gives her a little smile and an almost imperceptible nod, and she nods back.

She approaches the bar with her colleagues, and pretends to be engrossed in the act of ordering drinks, and the office banter the Aurors have brought over the road from work. She keeps a surreptitious eye on Remus though, who ducks out of the back door about a minute later. She says something vague about needing the bathroom and without really knowing why, follows him out into the uninspiring autumn evening.

He stands by the back door, hands in his pockets, looking up at the clouds scudding through the laden London sky. They are safely out of earshot.

"Wotcher."

He turns and smiles warmly. "Hello. Didn't expect to run into you."

 _This is a lie. He knows perfectly well who frequents this bar. He also knew she was working today. He has been lingering, pretending to himself he wasn't waiting for her to show. He's been nursing a half-pint of butterbeer for the last hour and a half, much to the annoyance of the landlord._

She snorts. "I think you'll find you're in my territory, Lupin. Now kindly explain what you are doing here?" she says in a mock-authoritative tone. She is delighted to see him.

"Oh, you know. Things to do. People to see. A dark creature's business is never done".

She laughs happily at this, and he feels a swell in his chest, the same one he always feels when he makes her laugh. He loves to see her laugh.

"What are you really up to?"

"Mostly trying to read a book in peace. Thought I'd have a better chance if I got away from our good friend Snuffles for a bit." He sighs then, feeling a little guilty. "I ought to get back, really".

"Don't go!" she says, much too quickly. She tries to recover by adding, more casually "I only just got here, and I'm absolutely famished. Have you eaten?"

"No, actually. I was going to scrounge around the kitchen in the hope of finding some left-overs from the blessed Saint Molly".

She grins "Well that just won't do. I know a delightful Indian place around the corner. My treat!"

He smiles a little tentatively, feels a warmth creep up his cheeks. "Tonks, I.." he stammers, not too sure where this sentence is going.

But she has already moved down the steps into the alley that leads back into the busy London night. "Come on!" She adds mischievously "I won't take no for answer…"

It's his turn to grin as he follows her. Inside, their drinks are left on the side, forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**Noticing**

He likes the pink best, he thinks.

Even though the reddish-brown curls are alluring, and the blonde bob is distracting, and the varying shades of aquamarine spikes are bemusing - pink is definitely his favourite.

It would be, anyway, if he were keeping track, which he's not. He's just noticing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Diagon Alley**

Laughing, they wander down Diagon Alley. Their latest mission ended in rather dismal failure. Eight hours spent outside a supposed Death Eater meeting point, only to find out it was the latest ravers' hot-spot. Ridiculous.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror and smiles at her reflection. Yes, her spiky pink hair is definitely working for her. Lately she's been feeling more beautiful, and she knows this has nothing to do with any objective change in her appearance, but rather a purely subjective shift in attitude. She feels happy and confident, particularly when around him.

Something to do with how he looks at her more lingeringly of late, and the jumping somersaults her heart does as a result. And he's been gracing her with a new smile. A bit more mischievous, a bit more private. Like they're sharing an in-joke no-one else is privy to. Which more often than not, they are.

She looks away from the window and realises it's starting to snow. She shivers, involuntarily, and the most wonderful thing happens. He slips an arm around her shoulders, without thinking. He almost catches himself and makes to retreat but she turns to him and beams. It's too late. He settles his arm round her and they keep walking.

Neither wants to go home anytime soon. She'd happily freeze in this snow if it meant more bodily contact with Remus.


	5. Chapter 5

**Being that man**

He learns how she takes her tea, and the mornings she's at Grimmauld he likes to make it for her. The first time she comes downstairs into the kitchen, to find him there with two steaming mugs of tea, she beams at him, and throws her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. That's when he decides he'd quite like to be the man who makes her tea in the morning.

* * *

Once, on an endless stake out in the dead of winter, she lays her head on his shoulder and dozes off. It's only for a few minutes. She's working crazy hours at the Ministry at the moment, on top of her work for the Order. But she never misses her turn. Not if she's partnered up with Remus. He stays very still and watches her as best he can from an awkward angle. She sleeps peacefully, smiling a little. _Is she thinking of me?_

That's when he decides he'd quite like to be the man she falls asleep next to.

* * *

One day they get caught by a ridiculous, out-of-season downpour. They only just make it back to her London flat before the thunder starts, but not before they both get soaked. Once inside her place she disappears to get towels and the like, to dry off. He tells her not to bother, he can charm himself dry, but she insists. He takes a look at the small but bright space, the walls covered with photos, the living room full of books and Muggle music, and he immediately feels at home there. She comes back, stripped of her cloak and robes, in a small vest and shorts. He looks away quickly, blushing. She laughs and tells him he can get changed in the bathroom. That's when he decides he'd quite like to be the man who gets to see her naked.


	6. Chapter 6

**Levitating**

One night, she's back very late. He's almost about to give up, thinking she might have decided to go back to her flat, for once, when he hears her trip on the stairs. He opens the door to the library, and she almost falls into his arms.

"Sorry," she says in a loud stage whisper "I'm so clumsy when I'm tired." She grins mischievously. "And all the rest of the time, too."

He smiles at her warmly, and offers to levitate her up the stairs, if they are too much of an obstacle in her present state. "No, no. I hate being levitated. I don't object to being carried, though." He laughs, thinking she's joking, until she says "Oh, well. If you think you couldn't manage it without magic…"

So he bends deftly and scoops her up, knocking her legs out with one arm and supporting her back with the other. She squeals, delightedly, and wraps her arms around his neck.

They laugh as he carries her upstairs, but not as quietly as they'd thought, because Sirius is waiting for them on the landing, one eyebrow cocked in amusement, arms folded in mock sternness.

"And what time do you call this, Missy? And who is this beast, manhandling you?!" Remus is so surprised he almost drops her like a bag of potatoes, but remembers in time to let her down gently.

She disappears into her room, with an embarrassed look at her cousin, and a small, guilty smile at him. When the two men are left on the landing, Sirius leans casually against the banister, saying "Well, well, well. Quite the dark wolf, aren't you, Moony?".

Remus replies with a most uncharacteristic expletive, accompanied by an even more uncharacteristic hand gesture, and goes into his own bedroom. That's when he decides he'd quite like to be the man who carries her up to bed, without a Sirius or anyone else to interrupt them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Biscuits & Surveillance**

Remus shifts so he's sitting more comfortably against the hard bark of a pine. The coarseness of it digs inbetween his shoulder blades but he's having much too much fun to pay any attention to it.

"So let's hear about him then. This disastrous ex-boyfriend."

He's trying to keep the tone light and casual but he's quite keen to hear what sort of bloke she's interested in. Not that the information could be of any use to him.

She smiles and takes another biscuit from the diminishing pile between them.

"Well…he was in my year at Hogwarts. He wasn't anywhere near as bad as I make him out to be. We just grew apart after school because I was always so busy with training. He found someone else pretty soon after though, and they settled down very quickly. Too quickly. I hadn't moved on yet. I think that's when I got a bit bitter about it. But he was a nice enough when we were together."

Remus nods sagely, and agrees that his moving on so quickly was unforgivable, and that overall he sounds like a total prat. She laughs.

"And after him…well, no-one serious. There was one bloke, but…well. Things ended badly between us. He wanted…oh, nothing. You don't want to know." She's come to an awkward, halting stop. She looks at a loss as to how to move on, so he hurries to help her gloss over the moment.

"Of course, you don't have to tell me." She still looks uncomfortable, so he adds "But if you do, I'll give you the rest of the biscuits." This makes her laugh, and the tension lessens a little.

He hopes she understands that he respects her privacy, but that nothing she could say could make him think any less of her.

But she is shaking her head. "Buy me a drink, or two or three, and I'll probably tell you. I'm a cheap drunk. And anyway," she prods him with the toe of her boot "It's your turn to spill."

He sighs, thinking he probably should've seen this coming.

"Well…I think it's safe to say my love life's been pretty disastrous. Things certainly took a nose-dive when I was outed as a werewolf all over the front pages of the Daily Prophet. It had quite the sobering effect on any interested parties - past, present, and future."

He smiles at her ruefully, and resumes drawing random patterns on the ground with his wand.

"At least it solved one problem though, one I'd never quite got my head round: how to break it to someone you've been seeing that you're a werewolf. And, worst still, that you've been lying to them about it all along."

He doesn't look up, for fear of seeing judgement cloud her eyes.

"Oh." She pauses. "Perhaps you should get the last biscuit then." He looks up at her and they both laugh.

They sit in silence for a while, quite companionably.

Out of the blue, her voice breaks the silence. "He wanted me to morph for him. You know. In bed. And I liked him so much I told myself it was for both of us, that I wanted to do it for him."

She grimaces, avoiding his gaze, staring down at the forest floor.

"I came to my senses, eventually. I just feel so stupid now, looking back. He didn't give a toss about me."

For a moment he's so taken aback by what she's told him, he can't quite formulate a sentence. When he does, his tone and his choice of words surprise both of them in their intensity.

"What an utter scumbag." He takes a breath to steady himself, then smiles, trying to sound casual. "I shall ensure that he is the Order's next target, and go and break his legs personally."

She laughs at this and smiles at him very widely. She reaches over and breaks the last biscuit in two.

"There. I think we both deserve it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Sirius**

They're slowly developing their own little world, and no-one else is invited in.

It's Sirius who mostly catches them at it, tucked away in some corner of the library, supposedly doing work for the Order, but really just engrossed in one another. It would be a bit embarrassing, if they weren't both too focused on each other to really take too much notice of anyone else.

Sometimes Sirius comes into the kitchen and has to cough several times before they look up from their conversation. He's taken to dropping heavy objects on the floor, and once, in desperation, lobbed an ancient family tome at Moony's head - but even that almost failed to get his attention.

She doesn't think anyone else has noticed, but she's wrong, of course. Discrete but knowing eyes follow the two of them as they wait for each other after meetings, or disappear into the library upstairs.


	9. Chapter 9

**Two old friends**

One evening it's just the two tired, old friends in the kitchen, and Sirius looks up from his dinner. He's in an unusually good mood.

"So. I suppose we'd better have the talk".

Remus looks up, surprised. They had just lapsed into a comfortable silence, but he senses that the conversation has suddenly shifted into uncharted territory.

He doesn't want to encourage this, he knows. Whatever Sirius is about to say, it'll come to no good.

"What are your intentions towards my dear cousin?"

Remus almost splutters into his goblet, then laughs. "What are you talking about?!"

Sirius does not smile back, instead puts on a rather severe expression. "You know perfectly well what I mean, Moony. You've been flirting for months. It's positively sickening".

It's Sirius' turn to laugh at the colour that suddenly blooms on Remus' cheeks. It's always been so difficult to get a reaction out of him, even when they were eleven. This is clearly a chink in the armour. Sirius makes a mental note to exploit it as much as possible.

"I have not been flirting!" says Remus, looking flustered and sounding unconvinced.

"You have, you have, you have." says Sirius, in a deliberately annoying sing-song voice. The pair of them have a tendency to regress when they're left alone.

Remus feels acutely embarrassed. He knew he was making a damn fool of himself, but the thought that other people have noticed is intolerable. He wants to sink his head in his hands. What must people, even Sirius, think? A 36-year-old werewolf, flirting with a 23-year-old Auror. It's so palpably ridiculous he almost laughs out loud.

Sirius has stopped laughing and is considering his friend seriously. He says softly, with more gentleness than Remus would ever have supposed him capable of, "Don't despair, old boy. You've only been flirting with her as hard as she has with you."

Something blooms in Remus' chest then, an indescribable lightness. If he knew any better he would call it love. But he doesn't know any better, not yet. He's still in total denial.

So he does his best to convince his old friend with the same arguments he's been using on himself, late at night, for months now. "No, no, you've got it all wrong, you old mongrel. We're just friends. We get on, that's all. She's great." He can't help it, when he talks about her, his face splits open into a big grin.

 _He looks an utter fool,_ thinks Sirius fondly, shaking his head.

"What?" insists Remus, knowing he really ought to leave it alone.

"Nothing." responds Sirius, maddeningly. "Whatever you say, old friend. You're definitely not flirting, then. It's just common courtesy that makes you wait up for her, late into the night, when she's been kept at work. Come to think of it, why does she sleep here so often? Doesn't she have her own place to stay? And would you say it's just a coincidence that you get paired together for missions all the time? What about all those cosy chats in the library, and the disappearing together for hours on end, that's all just my imagination, is it?"

"Yes. Yes it is." says Remus stubbornly. He gets up and starts clearing away, even though neither have finished eating.

Sirius laughs again and grabs his plate back.

"Ok then. Message received, Captain Denial. I won't mention it again." Which, they both know, means he will be repeating it often and at length. Probably in front of her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Backwards & forwards**

R,

I know I promised I would pick up provisions for tonight, but I'm being waylaid by a last-minute meeting. And it couldn't be more pointless - it's a round-up of all the latest information regarding the search for my dear cousin. _Snore._

Anyway, I'll leave you in charge of choosing snacks. Just remember that chocolate is not a food group, and fruitcake is the devil, and I'm sure you'll be fine.

See you later,

T.

* * *

R,

It is with great personal satisfaction, that I, Nymphadora Tonks, winner of last night's bet, remind you that you currently owe me 1 million trillion galleons.

As you know I am a generous soul, so I will only be charging 1% interest. An hour. Better pay up fast!

T.

PS. I'm bored.

PPS. Write back begging for your debt to be written off, and if you are amusing enough about it, I may consider it.

* * *

R,

That owl you're using at the moment is decidedly snooty - she just nibbled my finger very hard when I offered her a custard cream. She's more of a chocolate bourbon type, apparently - and who can blame her?

Thank you for your very polite, if a tad condescending, reminder. Yes, I will remember to bring my cloak this time. And no, I won't be needing a pillow. That nap during that surveillance mission was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, rarer than a solar eclipse. You should count yourself lucky to have seen it.

May I take this opportunity to remind you not to forget the flask of tea this time, and that people generally find maps to be a useful addition to any trip into an unknown, wooded area. Just a friendly suggestion.

Best wishes,

Your exasperated colleague,

T.

* * *

R,

Thanks for lending me that umbrella. You were right, the weather is filthy here, and it's come in handy more than once.

And thanks for the book. It's certainly very suited to the environment. But it's so very bleak. And why are there so many women called "Kathy" in it? I can't make heads or tail of it, to be honest. But at least it passes the time.

Arthur is lovely, but he's not a patch on you in terms of snack selection. So I've been hungry AND bored on this mission, which hardly seems fair.

Write back with something to amuse me, would you? And if you could stick a chocolate HobNob or two in there, I'd be forever indebted to you.

Yours boredly, and hungrily

Kathy (T.)

* * *

 _This note has been crumpled many, many times. The ink is smudged in various places, and several words have been crossed off. The note now lies by the wastepaper basket in the corner of the room, where it was thrown in exasperation earlier today._

R,

What did you mean by stroking my cheek like that last night? I keep replaying the moment, over and over. My brain thinks it probably meant nothing but my heart feels that it did and beats like a wild thing every time I think about it, which is all the time. I can't stop.

Look, Remus, if I've got the wrong idea, then just tell me, and I promise we'll go straight back to being friends. Just business as usual.

But if I don't, then maybe we could talk about it over a drink or two? Maybe we could even go somewhere that isn't 12, Grimmauld Place? Maybe it could be just the two of us? You know, like a date.

Because I think I like you. I think I like you a lot.

Yours, confusedly,

T.


	11. Chapter 11

**Mission**

He's back late from a mission, battered and bruised. His robes are stained with someone else's blood.

He lets himself into Grimmauld with a weary sigh, tip-toes past the dreaded portrait, down into the kitchen. It's cold and dark. Remus wonders what corner of the house Sirius has passed out in tonight. Not like him not to wait up, actually.

Something in his chest constricts at the absence of another familiar, welcome face, but he ignores it. He moves around the kitchen, slowly - methodically lighting the fire, putting on water to boil, finding left-over food.

He eats propped up at the counter, lazily. He's tired, and no-one is there to see.

That's when the door creaks open and she comes in, all bed-hair and ruffled pyjamas, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

He starts, splutters round a mouthful, tries to regain a semblance of composure. She smiles, pleased to see him. Lips curling to see him in this dishevelled state, so unlike his usual composed self.

Her face falls when she takes his appearance in more fully.

"Remus!"

She's by his side in a moment, knocking a slice of bread out of his grasp, taking his face gently between her hands to inspect the bruising more closely. She takes in his split lip, the burn down his neck and arm, the dried blood around his nose.

She's focused on him, brow furrowed, totally absorbed in the task at hand. All Remus is aware of is that she is extremely close. Close enough to see the light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose, to see her soft, dark eyelashes against her pale skin. Close enough to kiss her.

He's so distracted by this line of thought he doesn't hear her question.  
"Sorry?"

"What happened? Are you alright?" She's guiding him gently into a chair and draws one up next to him.

"I'm ok," He smiles to reassure her, which makes his lip throb. "Bit battered. I've been worse."

They're sitting extremely close now. Knees brush together as she leans over him. She waves her wand delicately, and he feels the heat of healing magic skim and run over his skin.

He closes his eyes and relaxes. He hopes she doesn't think it looks creepy. He's just trying to fix this moment in his mind forever.

"You idiot. Why didn't you wake me?" She sounds concerned still, almost guilty.

"It's late. I didn't want to disturb you."

"You wouldn't have. I was going to wait up. But I fell asleep on the sofa, and Sirius ordered me to bed."

Remus smiles at the image she's conjured in his mind. "S'good. You need to rest."

She shakes her head at him. "You always wait up for me."

He feels it then. The weight of this shifting, shimmering thing between them. Neither mentions it, or alludes to it, and yet, it's there, almost as tangible as the table he's resting his hands on. He looks at her, and she's so close. He thinks she feels it too.

He's tongue-tied. Doesn't know what to say, what he could say. Something that would incriminate him further, probably. Best to stay silent, but his heart hammers so loudly in his chest he thinks she must be able to hear it.

She looks at him, and he shifts his gaze away, guiltily.

She pauses for a moment, but then keeps dabbing at his forehead with the essence of dittany. Gently. She's surprisingly gentle, is Tonks.

She moves down to tend to the injury on his neck. He feels her breath on him and a bolt of electricity runs through him.

"I'm so glad I came downstairs. I did listen out for you." She whispers softly.

He needs to put a stop to her proximity before he does something he can't take back.

"You don't have to explain. It's alright. Please don't feel as if you owe me anything."

It comes out all wrong and her hand suddenly falls away, back to her side. She doesn't look at him a she turns away. "I think that should do the trick. I'll get you some more dittany for your arm. Then I'll let you finish your dinner in peace."

He turns to her, wanting to explain, wanting to ask her to stay by his side, preferably forever. But the weight of years and years of silence falls on him, and he doesn't say a word.


	12. Chapter 12

**Envy**

Remus watches them, two birds of a feather. Bill says something, and she laughs, and he tries to ignore the flame of pure envy curling in his stomach.

He looks away, focusing on the remains of his dinner. He avoids looking at Sirius, even though he can feel his eyes flitting between him and Tonks.

Usually it's her sitting across from him, but tonight she's spent the entire evening at the other end of the room. With Bill. Which is fine.

He hasn't seen her much in the last ten days or so - not that he's counting. She hasn't dropped by Headquarters, or spent any of her evenings with him and Sirius, which had rapidly become their habit.

Sirius' mood is darker, as a result, and Remus himself feels so ridiculously, so unexpectedly bereft at her absence that he's been moping almost as much.

He promises himself he won't look over again, and to cover up the ache in his chest he does his best to chat to Arthur, then Moody, though he finds himself perennially distracted by the sound of Tonksian laughter echoing round the room.

An early night then, perhaps. He rises suddenly, cutting Sirius off, and mutters a vague "Thank you for dinner, Molly. But Dumbledore has asked me to look over something…" and begins to make his way out of the room, despite Molly's protestations.

Once in the library, he closes the door behind him, effectively cutting off all noise, and breathes a sigh of relief. He pours himself a generous measure of Ogden's and sits heavily at the desk. The report that is actually due for the end of the week sits in front of him, but he can't bring himself to focus on it just yet. He doesn't want to think about her either, so he simply sits, staring at the fire.

"You always knew it would come." He murmurs to himself quietly. "No need to make a fuss about it."

"Talking to yourself now, hmmm?" He jumps a mile, his heart in his throat. It's her, of course. Trust her to manage to sneak up on him quietly, tonight of all nights.

She smirks at him from the door, her tangerine hair glistening in the firelight. "First sign of madness, you know."

He feels absurdly angry at her. He wishes he could shout, or sulk, and do either with an ounce of credibility. Who is he to make a claim on her time? Who is he to begrudge her anything?

He says nothing, but gestures to the Ogden's. She nods, and he pours out a measure, grateful for the distraction. Something to do with his hands.

"Busy, I see?" She looks over his shoulder at the as-yet-unopened file lying on the desk.  
"Well, I only came up to say ta-ra. Bill and I are off to the pub, and I don't suppose you want to come?"

Remus shakes his head, and gestures to the file. He feels exposed in his lie, so clings onto it all the more desperately for it.

"Better get it done. I promised Albus."

She smirks again, then downs her drink. "Remus Lupin. Some might say you were married to the job."

"If they did, they wouldn't know me very well. A werewolf's prospect of being gainfully employed are almost as minimal as his chances of getting married." He swallows a mouthful of his drink, to cover the bitterness of his tone. "Have fun at the pub."

She looks at him again, something softening in her face, but he looks away, not wanting to see her pity.

It's better this way. Important to make it clear, if any such clarity were needed, that her future lies with any number of young men, in any of London's smoky pubs. Not in a draughty library with dark creatures old enough to be her… _something._

"Don't be so morose, Lupin, or I shall feel forced to drag you along with me."

He smiles, a small, tight-lipped smile. "I wouldn't want to cramp your style. And I imagine Bill wants you all to himself."

She looks at him, bemused. Realisation hits a few seconds later, and her eyes go wide in surprise. Then, unexpectedly, she laughs.

"You moron, Lupin."

"Excuse me?"

But she is giggling too much to answer. She swoops towards him suddenly, and presses a quick, close-lipped kiss to his cheek. It lands very close to his mouth.

"I was wondering why you'd been sulking all night."

He splutters at that, but things are happening too fast for him to mount any sort of defence, except: "I wasn't sulking."

"Of course not." She's still laughing as she saunters away from him, towards the door. "I tell you what. You finish your made-up assignment for Dumbledore. I'll have this drink with Bill so he can finish droning on about his new French _girlfriend_. I'll meet you back here at ten thirty. Eleven, tops."

She leaves as he's still sitting there, mouth agape, glass of firewhiskey still balanced precariously in hand.


	13. Chapter 13

**Her first kiss**

The first time she kisses him, it's a disappointment. Her heart takes an Olympic style dive down into the floor, when she tentatively presses her lips against his, and he barely reacts.

Flushing, embarrassed and confused, she pulls away hurriedly.

She doesn't know what to do, so turns to leave, preferably never to be seen again. She feels a fool.

It had begun with her confession - "If you weren't so busy feeling sorry for yourself, you would know who I've fallen for." The words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, but in the half-second afterwards she had thought, _finally_. Finally, I've said it out loud. Surely, the ball is in his court now?

But no such response was forthcoming. For a second he'd looked amazed, perhaps even happy, but almost immediately his expression had become closed and guarded, in a way it had never been with her.

Then, his stilted answer - "What do you mean?" in a voice which sounded nothing like his. An awkward laugh, then he had changed the subject with lightning speed: "Do you think we ought to move closer to the front door? We wouldn't see Voldermort himself strolling past from here!" Cue more forced laughter from Remus. He had scrambled up into his feet and walked away. She had followed, mutely.

The rest of that god-awful stake out had passed in silence - a contrast to their usual easy, almost constant flow of conversation and laughter. She had wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

That hadn't even been the worst part, though she wouldn't have believed it then. No, the worst was yet to come. He avoided her at meetings, gaze pointedly directed anywhere except at her. No more cocoa in the kitchen or cosy chats till two in the morning. Rosters changed at the last minute, so they never seemed to be paired up anymore. No more casual run-ins, or any lingering after meetings to catch up.

But even that awfulness paled into comparison with this - the ultimate proof of her desperation, and his rejection. What on earth had possessed her to kiss him? How thick was she? Did she need it announced at the next meeting?

 _"Last order of business today, to be added to the official record - Remus Lupin is NOT interested in Nymphadora Tonks. See you next week, everyone"._

As she turns away, she feels his hand on her arm, stopping her. Her heart is caught between flying and breaking, so does a weird somersault instead.

"Tonks…" he says, in a low, husky voice, that doesn't sound at all like the calm and collected Remus Lupin of old.

She says nothing, but braves a quick peek at him over her shoulder. He stands, still gripping her wrist, his greying hair falling into his eyes, his gaze boring into her.

She waits.

And waits.

Nothing happens.

She gently disentangles herself and walks away.


	14. Chapter 14

**After Sirius**

Remus doesn't visit her in St Mungo's, where she makes her brief but uncomfortable recovery. After she is discharged she is still plagued by headaches, though their intensity has now diminished to a dull throbbing behind the eyes.

Her head hurts the first time she sees him after they lost Sirius. Moody had broken the news to her while she'd still been in hospital, and she had wept over the cousin that she'd lost once already and had only just begun to re-discover.

Remus looks even older and sadder now. And still perfectly distant. He is deep in conversation with Kingsley when she arrives, and though everyone else greets her warmly, he barely looks up. She doesn't know whether she wants to envelop him in a hug or shake him.

She decides that after the meeting she will try and speak to him. No matter how hard he tries to get away. But to her amazement, he approaches her.

"Glad to see you're better, Tonks."

She's so shocked she can't quite gather her wits to say anything. She wants desperately for him to suggest they go somewhere, just the two of them, to talk like old times, but he's already moving away, part of the river of Order members making their way to the exit.

"Remus." She says it so quietly she's scared he might not have caught it, but he turns back to her straight away.

"I'm sorry about Sirius."

He does a sad little shrug that does nothing to belie the enormity of his loss.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for your loss too."

He makes to turn away and she wants to grab onto him to make him stay. So she says the first thing that comes to mind.

"You didn't come. The others all came. Moody had to tell me what had happened." She lets her question hang in the air between them.

He sighs and rubs a hand over tired eyes. He avoids her gaze.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to come. I was busy."

The silence hangs between them and it's getting odd, standing in the now empty hall, Emmeline regarding them curiously from the doorway. They've got to leave, so she grabs her cloak and waves Emmeline goodbye.

Remus is already out the door. Tonks' head throbs again, and she doesn't have the energy to chase after him.

She is resigned to watch him disapparate out of her life once more but he stops a few yards away. The door closes behind them and unexpectedly, they are finally alone.

He gives her a strange look, as if he can't decide whether to stay or flee. She watches him, silently. It works, because he breaks first.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you. It should've been me that told you. But I couldn't bear to do it."

Unexpectedly her eyes fill with tears, but she brushes them away angrily. She's not going to cry.

"It's my fault." The words are out of her mouth before she knew she was going to say them. She's voicing something she hadn't even been able to admit to herself. He has that effect on her.

"I should've got her. But I didn't. So now Sirius is dead and it's my fault."

He makes a sudden movement towards her, then, and she thinks he was going to hug her. He doesn't though. He just keeps watching her, carefully.

When he speaks again, his voice is very quiet.

"It's not your fault. Don't ever think that. He would hate for you to blame yourself. It's no-one's fault but Bellatrix's. Or Voldemort's. But not you. Never you."

She brushes another would-be tear away, doesn't trust herself to speak, so just nods.

He reaches his hand out to her then. "Can I take you home?"


End file.
